Sometimes, Dead is Better
by Panda7861
Summary: After Rin had died, Obito did not believe in a god. A god would have stopped Rin's heart from being pierced by a chidori, would prevent the tragedy of war. When he saw Kaguya, however, he thought gods were selfish and cruel. And when he was born into a world where gods abandoned their children for dead, he knew he was right. Reincarnation story with Obito. T for strong language.
1. Prologue

_Sometimes, Death is Better_

 _Prologue_

Obito had expected to wake up in the black void that was _nothingness_.

Or… not wake up at all? The prospect of death was still a mystery to him, despite being dead himself. What was supposed to happen, after all? Would he stay in the hazy purple realm he had inferred to be the afterlife? If that were true- would he see others who had passed in his life? Minato-sensei? The Uchiha Clan? His _parents?_ No, no- he didn't see much of anyone else in the barren land. He doubted they would make themselves known, anyways. He was responsible for the deaths of both his Clan and Minato-sensei. He didn't really anticipate a welcoming party ( _could the dead have welcoming parties?)_ but he thought he would see _some_ other person.

Maybe they were ghosts? Rin did say she had watched him after she was killed, _(slaughtered, stabbed through the heart by her own comrade, his mind supplied. he was still not ready to fully forgive. He had spent fifteen years of his life succumbed to hate and revenge, after all)_ Did she walk to earth as a spirit, much like a human? Or did she stay up here and watch from above?

Did one just disappear, scattered like dust in the wind? That's quite what he expected before he saw Rin, thinking he was unworthy of anything else other then simply not existing _(and he was unworthy, he knew that, accepted it.)_

Whatever the case may be- he didn't quite expect _this_.

Hazy, _bright_ light. He couldn't see clearly- anything that wasn't a foot in front of his face was blurred and distorted. He couldn't move his arms or legs, he felt changed, _different._ He was terrified.

His first thought was to panic. So he did.

When he was met by the shrill cry of an infant, and the feeling of fat, heavy tears rolling down his face, he wanted to freeze- trying to hang on to what little self control he felt he had left.

But he couldn't, the hot tears just kept coming, _(and kami, he hadn't cried out of fear in years.)_

His cries _(he hated that he couldn't control himself, hated being so helpless.)_ were reduced to small whimpers at the sound of a woman cooing softly. He shocked himself with how much he craved some sort of comfort; an anchor.

He began to make out the words the woman was saying as she brought him closer to her face, he was face-to-face with dark eyes- dark hair- a pale complexion and a kind face.

" _Shh_ , Tobi, don't cry, Mommy's right here."

He was a baby again, Obito realized with a start.

He burst into another bout of tears that had his mother scrambling to calm him down.

A baby, he was a goddamn _baby._ The gods just hated him, didn't they? After spending _fifteen fucking years_ just wishing to be reunited with Rin again, he finally got to see her- and the universe just ripped that dream away from him.

He would laugh- if he wasn't currently sobbing into his mother's chest. _(it was then he realized with a jolt, he had a_ mother, _one that he would grow up with if the gods didn't decide to take that away as well)_

The universe is cruel. Obito learned that at a young age. He used to have faith- when he was a young, naive and simple genin. But that was ripped away the moment those rocks fell on him and he woke up in Madara's cave.

His name was _Tobi_ now too, as in the same name he used to go undercover and join the Akatsuki. So not only was he reincarnated, but he was stuck with the name of his babbling idiot persona.

With all this on his mind, he allowed himself to cry freely into his mother's breast.

* * *

Being a baby again, Obito found, was not something he enjoyed.

The inability to control his body or emotions was one thing, but he was so goddamn _bored_ all the time, and he only had the odd baby toys his mother would give him to busy him. They were, of course, simple and only brought him minor amusement. So he'd end up just watching the T.V on the rare occasions his mother left it on.

Having to be changed was another thing he _loathed_. Of course he did, he still had the mentality of a thirty-year-old. At least when he was a baby in the Fire Country, he was _actually_ a baby and wouldn't have remembered anything before the age of two. Now, though? He shuddered at the thought.

There was perks to being a baby though, his mother thought he couldn't understand her. _(and he didn't expect to either; she wasn't speaking Japanese. How that worked he didn't question)_ Through this he gained knowledge of this new world he was in.

Like random events at work she talked about, _(She was an Art Therapist and had some… interesting patients)_ The politics of this country, _(The democracy had apparently elected a leader she felt was incompetent)_ and she had the habit to apologize about his lack of father, _("i'm sorry it's just me, tobi, I know you're getting sick of me")_

The absence of his father was something he had noticed within the first week of arriving to this universe. There was no man at the hospital, nor was there anyone in the two-bedroom apartment when he was brought home. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious as to _where_ the man was. Was he dead? Did he leave willingly? Or was he just away on some trip somewhere?

He didn't think he was dead, judging by his mother's body language whenever he spoke of him. It was never with the sadness of a grieving lover. It was with a sort of… nervousness? He didn't really know how to name it. Nevertheless, it was an odd behavior that Obito wished to investigate.

His mother was someone he respected. She was caring for him alone, and did so with such tender adoration he couldn't help but want to keep her safe.

Maybe it was because of his Uchiha blood, protectiveness seemed to run in the family. _(only then he remembered, he didn't exactly have uchiha blood anymore)_ Or maybe it was because he finally had a mother. Something he was devoid of for as long as he could remember.

Either way, Uchiha Obito, now Tobi Akane, looked at his mother with round, youthful eyes, with only one thought on his mind.

 _I will protect you, no matter what._

* * *

When Obito was four, he asked about his father.

He had walked into the kitchen once after a day at this world's version of the Academy. He wasn't exactly stealthy about his question.

"Where is my father?" He had asked, bluntly. He wanted a straight answer.

His mother stopped her cooking, turned to him, and stared.

He met her gaze unflinchingly. He was curious, definitely. His mother never talked about his father anymore, unlike how she would when he was a baby. And he had waited to ask until it seemed like a normal question to inquire at his age.

She blinked at him, once, twice. Before turning back to the dish she was making.

"We'll have this conversation when you're older."

It was a clear dismissal. He knew he would not get an answer out of her today. He accepted it. But it didn't mean he wasn't angry.

He glared at her back before turning out of the room.

The argument that he 'wasn't old enough' seemed absolutely meaningless to him. He would be thirty-four if he was still alive; His mother didn't know that, obviously, but it's not like he could tell her. _(what an interesting conversation that would be, 'actually, i'm a thirty year old who started a war and got shanked by a chakra rod! and now i'm your four-year-old son! whoopee!)_

No, he didn't blame her.

But he was still curious.

* * *

Every year on his birthday, Obito asked about his father.

Every year, he was treated with the same dismissive response.

Of course, it would vary in the way she said it. Sometimes it would be spoken with the tone of curt finality, other times with apologetic avoidance. Mostly, though, with resigned restraint.

He was getting tired of her antics.

So it was quite alarming when just a week before his thirteenth birthday she whisked him away in her old, beaten down car, ready to tell him about his dad.

* * *

 _An- new fic, Ive had this idea for a very long time and it's time I wrote it out. Some important things to know about this fic:_

 _THE EVENT IN TRIALS OF APOLLO DO NOT TAKE PLACE- this is because I only read one book of that series and it was a long time ago, and it would not fit the pretense of this story._

 _THIS IS THE SHORTEST CHAPTER IN THE STORY- it's a prologue, and I dont even like it, at that. It's not my best. the next chapter is probably half(?) way done, and its over 3000 words so far._

 _This is like a character study? kinda? I feel like obito wasnt totally changed after the war, he's trying, but he just needs that final moral push._

 _CHB will be brought in in either the end of next chapter or the beginning of the one after that, idk. we'll see._


	2. Chapter 1

_**This chapter contains a BRIEF and NON-GRAPHIC mention of suicide. Please be warned.**_

 ** _Sometimes, Dead is Better_** **  
**

_**Chapter 1**_

Children crowded in front of Edgewood School for Boys; it's green bricked walls stood delicately between the tall looming buildings that the city offered. Chipped and worn cinder showed years of use and abuse from its many students. The grass was brown-patched and dying, the gravel path leading up to creaky doors was messy, the pebbles spread sporadically across the lawn. The few leaves that had managed to clutch to their branches were brown and dry as they clung hopelessly to the scrawny trees they were stationed upon.

Kids huddled in droves, chattering wildly and loudly, trying to speak over the rumbling hum of cars driving on the city streets.

This was Obito's fourth school.

He had been here a little over a month now, Summer had bled into the chilly season of Autumn, then turned to the freezing temperatures of winter. With each day his restlessness grew.

The city was nearly _suffocating,_ skyscrapers littered every street of Manhattan, he couldn't walk anywhere without feeling the stifling heat of the thousands of other bodies pressed next to him as he navigated the filthy streets.

Pollution was so thick he could _taste_ it. With every breath, the blanket of smog settled on his tongue, it stung his eyes, it was _nothing_ like the open lands of Fire Country. He couldn't even see stars here, the glittering balls of light that had always been a consistency in his life were shrouded by the bright artificial light given off by every neon sign in this godforsaken city.

Even between the small opening between the looming apartments and factories that held his new academy he felt asphyxiated, it was smothering. _Kami-_ he couldn't _breathe,_ there was no air here _,_ he felt like he was _choking,_ it was _strangling him-_

He broke from his stupor at the shrill ringing that signaled the morning bell.

Boys of many ages raced into the building in a pointless rush, several bumping into Obito's shoulder in their hurry to enter the building. Obito stood still, drawing in heaving breaths as he struggled to regain air into his lungs.

He took shaky steps towards the front entrance, he was not too far behind the other boy's- not enough to draw much speculation, anyways- and there was still a massive crowd pushing through the doors by the time he joined the back of the frenzy.

Edgewood was a school for what teachers called " _troubled children,"_ it was a more subtle and friendly way of saying it was a school for child-thugs and the socially inept. Obito knew he belonged here, even if no one here knew of his past life as a martyr, he had still caused enough distress to many people in this world.

The first time he got expelled, he was nine. One of the larger boys of his class, a dark-haired boy whose name Obito didn't even bother to remember, had been demanding some sort of special card that was important in a trading game. It had led to the boy threatening a smaller kid.

All Obito could remember thinking was, _My school would be better without the likes of him._

He saw red and launched himself at the boy, his fist connecting with the weak points he had memorized from years upon years of training. It was muscle memory, though he knew his new body lacked its old muscle when it had been reborn. The kid beneath him didn't stand a chance against his taijutsu, even when Obito was at his weakest.

He didn't register the possessiveness of his earlier thought until after he was being hauled off the boy, whose eyes were already turning black and blue. Obito remembered smirking in satisfaction.

The second time was a similar experience, this time, however, he retained more control over his hits. And the girl he had fought was let off with only some nasty bruises and scrapes. That time, she had been shoving a younger student to get to the front of the lunch line.

When teachers had asked him why he was attacking his classmates, all he supplied was that it was for the good of the school. And it was, he didn't understand their continuous questioning, or why they thought he was lying. It was a simple truth; the school would be better without these students causing trouble. The faculty did not comprehend this, and neither did his mother.

After he had left _that_ school, his mother had looked at him with teary eyes. It had made his earlier indifference wash away, he had hurt her, and to him, that was the worst thing he could do in this new world.

She had asked him to try to not get into any more fights. She did not make him promise, but he promised her silently, anyway. He never wanted that look on her face again.

The third time he was kicked out was not because of a fight. This school was larger, and the teachers kept information from their students, so Obito decided to do some snooping.

He was by no means _tech savvy_ , technology was new to Obito in every way, but it didn't really take a genius to hack into low-security faculty files.

He did not, however, take into account the many monitoring devices that were stationed on each computer.

And now here he was at his fourth school, pacing down the long hallways as boys of varying sizes babbled to each other. Their individual voices blurring into one nonsensical hum.

He was brought back to his surroundings when he felt a presence approach him. He could not sense or control chakra anymore, which was something that greatly irritated and bothered him, but he could still sense a bodily existence advance towards him from behind. He had his shinobi training to thank for that.

Not even a second later, a short curly-haired head popped up next to his right shoulder, _his kunai-wielding hand_ , he thought passively.

The boy, an _ally_ named Dontae, smiled timidly up at him through brown spectacles. He was the student chosen to show him around on his first day here, and he had followed Obito around ever since.

He knew Dontae considered him a friend, one of his only friends if Obito had to guess, but Obito did not find anyone from this universe a friend. They were only temporary allies. They were there simply for if he ever needed some sort of back-up. Even though he doubted he would ever need the help from any of the school children.

Dontae was not supposed to be a part of this school, he was not troubled, far from it actually. He was part of a program the school held to integrate _normal_ students in with the difficult ones, as a means to help them learn to behave.

The curly haired boy smiled shyly up at him, he was hunched over into himself, the navy blue school uniform was wrinkled around his stomach and was much too large. His head bowed slightly and he was gazing up at Obito with wide, innocent eyes. It was submissive body language that was common from the small boy.

"Good morning, Tobi!" He tittered, offering a nervous smile.

Obito turned to him and offered a firm nod of his head, his unruly head of hair bobbing in the process.

"How are you today? It's almost Valentine's Day, are you excited?" He queried, looking at him expectantly.

Obito shrugged, indifferent to the foreign holiday, and unwilling to play twenty questions with his classmate. Dontae continued to babble on about what he would be doing for the festivities, while Obito listened with half an ear.

Kami, was Obito glad he had outgrown his loquacious mannerisms as a child. Was this how Kakashi felt whenever he would try to talk his old teammate's ear off?

The thought of the gray-haired teen- no, man- made him frown. When he was an infant in this universe, he often thought of why he was reborn here. At first, he regarded the subject with boiling anger, but once he had calmed down he eventually drew to the conclusion that this was a punishment of sorts. What the gods wished to accomplish he did not know for sure, was it simply a long overdue disciplinary action? Or was he supposed to learn something?

Many a day went by where Obito would stare at the rumbling vehicles on the street and nearly give in to the impulse to fling himself in front of oncoming traffic. Maybe that way he would see Rin again, he had reasoned at the time. But the thought of this rebirth being a punishment stopped him; what would stop the gods from just reincarnating him again? If he killed himself now, would they have him reborn in crueler conditions?

Obito did not want to chance it.

Besides, he knew he deserved these years of suffering through another life, away from Rin. He had pained the world and people around him in his previous life. Manipulated and schemed heroes and innocents he believed to be enemies and pawns, slaughtered his clan to keep up appearances and instill fear. He had made Kakashi suffer, most of all.

 _He deserved it after what he did to Rin,_ that traitorous part of his mind thought, but he snuffed the insight swiftly enough.

No matter how much he wanted to, he could not go back to his old happy-go-lucky personality. That part of him was wounded along with his body when he was crushed by rocks, and eventually shriveled up and died when he witnessed a _chidori_ go straight through Rin's heart.

And yet, here he was, in the body of his twelve-year-old self, walking with a garrulous child and managing to not slit the boy's throat where he stood.

It was progress.

He and Dontae arrived at their history class together, it was also the only class that really interested Obito at all, as he did had no previous knowledge on the subject. History, whether it was American or global, would never fail to grab his immediate attention.

Writing, however, was still a difficulty. This new language had come easily to him in terms of speaking, Obito was clueless as to how. But even with the ability to speak the language, the writing was something totally different. The letters were confusing and difficult to understand. He still managed, as he was put into extra classes to help with his reading struggle. Teachers called it dyslexia, but Obito knew it was because english was not his native tongue.

All of the other lessons he had learned in the Academy as a child, and then later in life when he became a missing-nin. He was taught everything he would need to survive in the shinobi world at the Academy, just not quite as in-depth. This education system held intelligence as the most crucial trait one could have, unlike how Konoha trained children into soldiers.

Knowledge was power, and war was not typical.

The history of this new world was very valuable information, he _needed_ to learn everything he could about his country's government and politics. He _needed_ to grasp at war patterns and strategies, possible threats, and ways to climb to the top of the hierarchy once again.

The rest of his lessons were a blur of notes and the monotone lulling of teachers voices. Lunch came, and with it was the usual shoving and arguing of the surrounding boys.

Lunch was a group effort, everyone in the school sat down in the cramped cafeteria to devour their food and be monitored by staff. Obito sat in between a tall, blond-haired boy named Dylan, and Dontae.

The only reason Obito bothered to remember the boy, _Dylan_ 's, name was due to the fact that he was currently leaning over Obito's head and shouting at his friend across the table.

 _Kami,_ was he obnoxious. His voice was grating, and Obito heard it full blast in his right ear. Dylan's arm was pressed into his side and was shoving him bodily into Dontae. The warmth given off from his skin made Obito sick to his stomach.

It was too damn crowded in here, everyone was breathing down his neck, there was warm flesh everywhere. He needed to strike something down, needed to get up and leave before he stabbed a student in their jugular. He could already feel the warmth of blood on his hands and face. Dammit. he needed to _flee_.

Obito took in heaving, breaths, trying to calm his heart-rate. His hands were clenched into fists on the table. Fuck, he was starting to hyperventilate again.

He'd be damned if he had a freak-out in front of all these people, so he did the only thing he could think to do at the moment. He sent a scathing glare at Dylan.

It had the intended effect, Dylan caught his eye and hesitated.

"Will you _get off of me,"_ Obito bit out, gritting his teeth and digging his fingers into the table so hard he was sure it would crack.

Dylan stared at him for moments, and Obito was vaguely aware of Dontae peering curiously at him. The rest of the table continued with their conversations obliviously.

The blond boy's mouth twitched and he sat down, leaning against the table with his head on his fist.

"Now that might just be the first time I've heard you speak, Tobi." He said, suddenly attentive.

Obito said nothing, only continuing to stare him down in hopes he would back the hell off.

"Oi! Tyler! Tobi's actually said something!" He yelled to his friend, Tyler, across the table. The boy looked up from his food before his gaze rested on Obito.

"Oh? What made you speak up now, Tobi? Did you finally lose that stick up that ass? Or are you just shy and sensitive?" Tyler asked, leaning across the table towards them.

Obito bit his tongue and narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

"Yeah, why don't you ever talk with us, man? It must get annoying having to listen to goody-two-shoes over there," Dylan jeered, gesturing towards Dontae, who had seemed to shrunk lower into himself.

Obito took a deep breath, _they're just stupid kids,_ He thought, trying to calm the urge to throttle the blond kid's neck, _they'll get bored and move on eventually. Don't lose your head over it._

Dylan tilted his head in front of Obito's face, "What, cat got your tongue again?" He asked, smiling irritatingly.

Tyler snorted, "Guess they're just both freaks. Birds of a feather, y'know."

Dylan barked out a laugh, reaching over Obito's head to grasp at Dontae's curly hair. "Yeah. Has he spoken to you, Dontae? We know you speak misfit."

Dontae only answered with a yelp of pain as Dylan tugged on his locks, in an attempt to get the boy to look at him.

Obito's previous resolution to let if pass snapped when he saw Dontae's pained expression. And with a swiftness that was unmatched by any of his peers, he seized Dylan's arm before promptly snapping the thin bone of his ring finger.

Any onlookers who had been curiously watching the scene before froze and anyone who wasn't viewing the previous interaction swiveled their heads to look at Dylan in shock when he let out a pained scream.

 _Tch,_ Obito thought, wincing at the shrill cry, _You'd think I had stabbed him with the scene he's making._

Obito kept his face calm as faculty and aids rushed over, the neutral facade kept in place even as Dylan's shouts turned into quiet sobs. He snuck a glance at Dontae, and the poor kid was covering his ears and looked close to tears.

A firm hand clamped down on Obito's shoulder, and he came close to grimacing at the unwanted contact. Instead, he turned around and met the eyes of a furious looking teacher.

"Come with me, _boy_ ," The man growled, pulling Obito up and out of his chair. He followed limply, allowing the man to pull him roughly down the hall.

They turned left, and there stood the ultimate destination. Heavy oak doors stood proudly at the end of the hall, the bronze nameplate gleamed with a name Obito knew all too well.

 _Principal's Office_

If Obito was still of the same mind when he was with Team Minato he would've groaned.

 _But you're not,_ He reminded himself with a slight frown.

The teacher leading him down the hall pushed open the door and brushed coldly past the receptionist, instead making a beeline through another doorway where Obito knew the Principal sat.

The Principal was a stocky man with balding hair and a short mustache. His suit was ironed and wrinkle-free. He exuded the aura of an organized, level-headed individual.

Obito sat wordlessly in the cushioned chair opposite the pinewood desk in front of him, even the desk was neat and punctual. The only decoration to be seen was a family photograph and a single, red paper heart.

The Principal cast a curious glance a the teacher who had brought him here, silently urging the man to explain his unannounced entrance.

"I apologize for barging into your office, Mr. Myers, I'm afraid it was of utmost importance," the teacher began, his voice was less gravelly than before. "This boy here has injured a student quite gravely, he broke the student's finger."

Obito almost snorted, they call a broken finger a grave injury? Why don't they try a fist through the heart? Or maybe being half-crushed by boulders would paint a better picture?

The Principal, Mr. Myers, turned to Obito, "What's your name, young man?"

Obito gazed blankly at the man before responding, "Tobi Akane." He answered shortly.

Mr. Myers hummed before opening a drawer under his desk and pulling out a yellow file folder, he flipped through it innately.

"You may leave, Mr. Gomez, please check on the student with the injury." He dismissed.

Mr. Gomez left the office briskly, Obito did not turn around to watch him leave.

The Principal eventually pulled out a white packet of paper, "Ah yes, Tobi Akane. You've been expelled three times?"

Obito didn't bother responding, the man already knew the answer.

"Two of those times were for fighting, much like this one," He continued, "Do you mind telling me why you get into fights so often? You don't seem like the type to look for trouble."

Obito opened his mouth to respond the same way he always did, this process was practically routine by now. "The school would be better without them here."

Mr. Myers peered at him curiously, "Oh? Care to elaborate?"

Obito's eyes narrowed, "He picks immature fights, and mocks seemingly weaker students for not conforming to what _he_ wants. I merely taught him a lesson."

The man stood out of his chair and walked to the edge of his desk, "And yet, it's you who's been expelled three times. Have you thought that maybe these schools would be better without you?"

Obito's eyes shot up and he glared daggers at the Principal, his lip twisted up into the beginning of a snarl. He went to shoot back a retort, but the brown-haired man was already speaking again.

"You do not have the right to dictate what is or is not good for a school. Especially this one. You are not in charge here, Mr. Akane, you cannot act as judge or jury. Nor can you use violence as your answer." He stated bluntly, his eyes were regarding Obito coldly.

"You are the problem. Not them."

The insult felt like a physical blow to Obito, it was like opening up an old wound and pouring salt in it. All of his old demons from when he was an orphaned child came back up to spit in his face.

It was all the same taunts, of never being good enough, never having the respect to lead or to help. Whatever accomplishments he made were not acknowledged in his younger years.

And here he was again, being antagonized by a measly school principal.

Obito was about to spit out an insult when Mr. Myers held up a hand.

"You're only thinking about yourself, Mr. Akane, what if that boy decides to file a lawsuit? Will your mother be able to fund the costs?" He inquired.

 _No, she wouldn't,_ He thought with a grimace, _We've been having financial troubles since she lost her job._

But he stayed quiet, not letting his internal thoughts show on his face.

"This is a violent act against another classmate, and this will most likely end in another expulsion for you, Mr. Akane. You understand this?"

Obito nodded numbly, not really paying much attention anymore. He knew where this was heading.

"I will have to call a meeting with the Board of Education, and we will have a trial for the terms of your expulsion," He continued, "I will call your mother and have her pick you up."

Obito dug his fingernails into the wooden legs of his chair, he was already dreading the look of heartbroken disappointment his mother would give him. His ears blocked out the telephone conversation the Principal was having with his mother, instead focussing on what he would say to her.

It's been a while since he's worried about what to say to someone in such an immature way as this, but then again, it's been a while since he's had a mother. Forever, even.

He would apologize, of course, try and explain his reasoning if she would listen. Make it up to her, maybe? How would he do that? Flowers? A promise? He had no clue.

But Mr. Myers was already addressing him again, saying something about how his mother would be here shortly. He tried to say something else, but Obito wasn't listening anymore.

His mother arrived about ten minutes later, her normally straight hair was mussed and ruffled. Obito kept his head low in an uncharacteristic display of apprehension. He heard her approach the desk and saw the black fabric of her shirt from the corner of his eye.

"Mrs. Akane, a pleasure." Mr. Myers greeted, extending his hand which his mother shook politely.

"Mr. Myers," She returned the welcome, "How are you today?"

He smiled, "I am fine, thank you." he said before his smiled dropped, "I know you are already aware of why you were called here."

She nodded grimly and glanced at Obito for the first time she entered. Obito avoided her gaze, knowing it would be full of disappointment.

"Your son got into a fight with another student today, and it ended with him breaking that students finger. I am unaware of the details. But harm to that extent is a clear violation of our school's rules. There will be a trial to determine his expulsion at a later date." He paused, before reaching for a drawer under his desk, "Actually, I may be able to set a date now-"

"That won't be necessary," His mother cut in, voice even. Obito looked up at her in bewilderment, surely expulsion was necessary?

"I apologize for interrupting, but I was already planning on enrolling him into another district," She continued.

 _What is she talking about?_ Obito thought, _Either she's lying through her teeth or she kept this from me. But why would she do that?_

"Ah, okay, I believe I have paperwork you must fill out to transfer schools," the Principal continued, opening up a different drawer and pulling out a packet of papers, "Here you are, I'm sure you're aware of how the transfer will work?"

She nodded, accepting the packet of papers with a smile, "Thank you," she said gratefully, "I know how the transfer will work and I have already sorted it out with the other school."

He nodded, "Well then you are free to go. Goodbye, Mrs. Akane," He said, holding out his hand for another handshake. His mother returned it briefly before calling out her own goodbye.

Obito stood from the chair and did not spare the Principal a glimpse. Instead following his mother out of the room and through the hall to grab his bag.

Children were mingling in the hallways, some peered curiously at him and whispered to their friends, others just ignored him and averted their gazes. He spotted Dontae's curly head of hair in the midst, but the boy took one look at him with wide eyes before turning briskly away.

His mother opened the front doors of the school without saying a word to him, and Obito was met with a blast of cool air. He shivered lightly, pulling his blue winter jacket closer to himself.

He trailed after his mom silently until they reached her old beaten down car. The gray paint was chipped and there were several dents littered along the bumper. His mother opened the door to the driver's seat and stepped in, Obito entered after her through the opposite door.

His mother started the engine and pulled out of the schools tiny parking lot, the car was still shrouded in the same silent tension.

Obito had enough of the hush once they were nearly halfway home.

"You never told me you were transferring me," He clipped, sounding much more accusing than what he had intended.

She sighed, never taking her eyes off the road. "I didn't think I'd have to transfer you," She paused as she looked through her rear-view mirror, "It was a safety net for if you got expelled again."

Obito huffed, _The fact that you even need a 'safety net' makes it worse._

There was another stretch of silence where Obito expected his mother to voice her anger or disappointment at his actions, but he was only met with the ongoing roar of traffic.

It angered him, oddly enough. Shouldn't she punish him? She'd done so the other times he'd gotten expelled, and this one was the worst offense, so why was she silent?

They stepped out of the car before making their way to their apartment, once they had entered the small living room Obito decided to test the waters.

"Aren't you going to punish me?" He asked matter-of-factly as he watched his mother put down her bag.

She stood up straight before looking at him, something like sadness swimming in her eyes.

"This school… well, it's more like a camp... is more than punishment enough." She said, averting her gaze to the nearby couch.

Something in the way she said that made him suddenly anxious, a foreign emotion he hadn't felt in a while.

 _More than punish enough? What is she_ talking _about?_

"Mom, what do you mean?" He asked, surprising himself with the desperation in his voice.

She shook her head, there was something else in her dark eyes now, something he couldn't place, it made his steadily growing panic increase.

"We'll… we'll talk about this later," She whispered, already turning around.

Something animalistic took over Obito then because he lashed out to snag her wrist and pull her back. His lips twisted into something just short of a snarl.

" _Mom._ what do you _mean,"_ he ground out, his grip tight, but not enough to bruise.

His mother flinched bodily then, looking at him with panicked fear, not the kind of look one would get when looking at their angry son. It was primal, an instinctual fear.

It made him release his hold on her like his hand had been burned.

There was a moment where Obito looked at her panic-stricken face as a sick feeling settled in his gut.

Before he turned tail and fled from the apartment.

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **Oops! I lied, I actually shortened this chapter, so you will not be seeing CHB for a little longer. Also, I'd like to clear up some things about Obito and his mom.**_

 _ **Obito is very emotionally attached to his mother, due to the fact that he did not have one in his first life and this lack of parental/maternal figure is an important part of his personality and driving force. That being said, his mother's fear of him in this last part was not random or just here to drive the plot. She's afraid for a reason pertaining to his divine parent.**_

 _ **Speaking of, I want to know your guys' predictions on who Obitos godly parent is, I'm sure a lot of you will get it right, I made it kind of obvious with his personality here oops.**_

 _ **Anyway drama? I guess? I need to work on emotions and dialogue, i think, this is only like my second REAL story and even the other one only has one chapter and hardly any dialogue so that's why this is all pretty YIKES. Haha yeah I don't have much writing experience, hell, this is the longest thing I've ever written at a whopping 4607 words. That being said though. PLEASE REVIEW AND GIVE ME CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM I am ALWAYS looking to improve my writing! I want to be a creative writer later in life so I gotta practice now y'know!**_

 _ **The next chapter will take a lot longer to come out bc most of this was already written when I posted the prologue. I write slowly and also don't have much time to write bc of school and sports. So please be patient!**_

 _ **Happy Thanksgiving!**_


	3. Chapter 2

Central Park was nowhere near Obito's apartment complex, but the large reserve had become one of his favorite places in the city. He went there often, enjoying the open land and how it at least _somewhat_ resembled the terrain of Fire Country.

It was also big enough for him to find a secluded area to train his _taijutsu._ Because, despite this world having nearly no need for self-defense of such extreme measures, Obito refused to let go of such an important part of his shinobi life. Not only was his training used for the obvious, to build muscle and keep a link to his past, but it was also quite stress-relieving. Feeling the familiar sting of overused tendons was welcomed and Obito spent what free time he could fighting imaginary enemies.

So it was no wonder that after Obito fled his apartment, he ran all the way to Central Park.

Mentally, the long run was nothing. He used to be constantly running in his old life, mile after mile with no rest. Physically, however, Obito's scarcely used leg muscles were _screaming_ at him to stop, unable to handle the exertion, especially without the help of chakra being pumped into his legs. His lungs heaved for air, and the cold, dry winter air left his throat scratchy and made his tongue feel like taffy against his mouth.

But never once did he stop to rest, forcing himself through the pain and weaving through the crowded city streets. Not sticking to the sidewalks often, opting to take shortcuts through tight alleyways and between looming buildings.

When he arrived there, nearly forty-five minutes later and horribly out of breath. He slowed to a walk and made a beeline to his training hollow, which was located off the dirt path and through a cluster of trees.

Not many people were mingling in the park, not only was it the middle of winter, but it was also just after noon on a Tuesday. There wasn't the usual crowd of curious but oblivious tourists that seemed to swarm the reserve on holidays or weekends.

His training area was a clearing surrounded by scuffed trees, most having clumps of bark chipped off. A few even had small, short slash marks. To his left stood a cluster of boulders that rose up to just above Obito's knee.

Obito walked towards the group of rocks before kneeling down and reaching into the tiny crevice located between them. He pulled out a small switchblade, its handle was slightly worn from his hand's continuous gripping.

He pressed the button at the base of the handle with his thumb and watched as the metal blade sprung free. Carefully, he twisted the knife in his hands, scrutinizing its edge.

 _Tsk,_ _the blade's dull,_ He thought exasperatedly.

He shrugged, making a mental note to sharpen it later, before closing the edge back into the handle and moving to put it back in its hidey-hole, but stopped just before he dropped it.

 _If I'm going to be going to a 'camp' or whatever the hell it's supposed to be,_ Obito mused bitterly, _Then who knows the next time I'll be able to come here and get it?_

With that in mind, he brought the switchblade back to his body and pocketed it in the inside patch of his jacket.

He stood before making his way to the middle of the clearing and beginning to stretch. Knowing he sure as hell was going to suffer from not stretching out his limbs prior to running here.

While he reached down to touch his toes, his mind wandered to the fight with his mother.

She was afraid of him, that much he figured out. Her wild, terrified eyes would be forever burned in his mind. Why she was afraid of him so, Obito did not understand.

Was it due to his aggressive tendencies at school? Maybe, but he had never harmed or lashed out at her as he did with his classmates. He was, in most aspects, like any normal child when with her. He pretended to be the twelve-year-old he was supposed to be around her. No longer was he _Obito, The Masked Man, Madara's Right Hand, Declarer of the Fourth Shinobi War._

With her, he was just Tobi Akane.

 _Maybe, it's a reaction to past trauma,_ He thought skeptically, his eyebrows knitting together. _Surely she'd let on to something like that, though?_

But Obito couldn't be sure, how much did he _truly_ know about his mother, anyway?

He got up from the grass, before breaking into a run towards the nearest tree. He leapt into the air, landing an aerial kick against the husk of the tall plant while simultaneously reaching into his pocket to pull out the switchblade and slash the dry bark mid-air.

He landed neatly on two feet, glowering at the mark he made. The blade really _was_ dull, it didn't go nearly as deep into the tree as it usually did.

"Looks like I won't be using you today," He said to the knife, pocketing it once more.

He knew he had to work on his strength, and that would mean cardio. But Obito had thought cardio was boring since he was a kid, and that was one of the things that didn't change when he grew up as a missing-nin. Push-ups were tedious and repetitive. And right now, all Obito wanted to do was let out steam and desecrate a tree.

So he began to begin a series of kicks against the poor plant. Each barrage becoming more intricate and complex than the last. Until he threw a punch at the firm husk of the tree and white-hot pain immediately flashed through Obito's senses.

" _Shit!"_ He exclaimed loudly, cradling his bleeding hand in his other arm.

He had forgotten for a second, in his anger-induced training, that he no longer had chakra to shield his fingers from such wounds.

He stared at the blood on his knuckles, the sharp ache had quickly reduced to a throb, and went back to a time when Rin had held that same limb between her soft fingers, looking at him sternly, and promising to always watch over him.

" _It's not good to hide your wounds, you know, I'm looking after you."_

He grimaced, the fight draining out of him. Replaced only by hollow sadness.

What would she say, if she saw him now? She would probably scold him again for injuring his hand. And then she'd tell him what to do about his mother.

He could picture it now; she'd walk over to him and take his hand gingerly in hers, her mouth would be curved into a displeased frown. She wouldn't be mad at him, not truly, but she'd heal his hand and wrap it up while chastising him lightly. He would laugh it off and treat the situation like it was nothing, telling her he'd figure out what to do with his mom. And she would put her hands on his shoulders and look at him with such _determination,_ and she would smile at him and tell him she would look after him and he would be immediately relieved. Because she would say everything would turn out alright because _you're Obito,_ and _you can do anything._ And then he felt like he _could_ do anything. Because she was here, and she was smiling at him, and she was touching him, and he could feel her warmth and he could _do anything-_

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the piercing ring of his cell phone.

Any warm feelings he might have had at the thought of Rin, alive and _well_ again, washed away at the sound. Instead being replaced by something like a heavy block of ice settling in his gut.

He took out his phone, already knowing who it was. Only one person would be calling him because only one person had his number; his mother. And even then, she only called when it was of the _utmost importance._ Obito had assumed it was due to the unwanted expenses of the phone bill.

Sure enough, her caller ID was written across the tiny screen. He flipped open the phone, which he knew was an old model compared to his old classmates' touch-screens, before curtly greeting his mother.

"Hello?"

" _Tobi, where are you? You've been gone for over two hours!"_ His mother exclaimed through the static of the device.

Obito hadn't realized he had been gone that long, being lost in his own blind anger. He brought the phone away from his ear to look at the time, sure enough, it was just after two o'clock.

"I'm at Central Park." He told her shortly.

" _Central Park? Okay, stay there, Tobi, I'll come to pick you up-"_

"No, I'll take a cab," Obito said swiftly, before hanging up without another word.

He felt slightly guilty at hanging up on her so quickly, but he didn't want to see her so soon. He still needed to think things over, and he sure as hell didn't want her to question his bleeding hand.

Obito looked down at his knuckles again, the slight hemorrhage had stopped and dried. But the pain was still there. He wiped some of the blood on the inside of his jacket lightly, stifling a wince as the open wound brushed against the rough texture of his coat.

The injury was still raw and red, but there was less blood. And it would be easier to hide in his sleeve until he could wash it.

He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them warm as he started to make his way back to the road to hail a cab. If he wasn't back soon, his mother would be sure to drive over here and find him.

He started walking back towards the path slowly, before stopping as his ears picked up a peculiar sibilant noise.

 _Hissing?_

Yes, something was hissing, and it didn't sound like any animal Obito was familiar with. It was low and twisted- starting out in a deep bass that resonated within his chest and growing increasingly more chilling. It wasn't the sound an angry or fearful animal made. It was a sound meant to deliberately intimidate him.

It was a sound someone like Orochimaru would make.

Obito pivoted his head to look in the direction of the noise while simultaneously whipping out the dull switchblade.

But just as soon as the hissing started, it stopped.

He stared into the trees a little longer, before walking slowly away. Never taking his eyes off the direction the sound came from.

Whatever had made that hissing was intelligent. Obito knew that in his gut, and it made him sick to his stomach just thinking about something like _Orochimaru_ being anywhere near him or his mother.

He kept on the path, one hand keeping close to his jacket pocket in case he needed to grab his weapon again, but he continued out of the park and to the street without incident.

When he reached the busy streets of New York City, he lifted his uninjured hand to hail a cab.

Obito hastily stepped into the yellow taxi car, before briskly handing the driver an emergency 20 dollar bill and telling him his address.

Obito stared at the park as the vehicle drove away. The lush greenery starkly contrasting with the gray of the city growing ever smaller.

 _What the hell could've made that noise?_

* * *

Obito was ambling steadily up the stairs toward his apartment, boycotting the elevator entirely. The space was too cramped, and it left him to entirely depend on a simple _machine_.

He was far more comfortable on stairs.

When he reached the door to his apartment, he paused, his uninjured hand wrapped around the doorknob tightly.

He still didn't know why his mother was afraid of him. Too caught up in his training to think much about it, and then with his thoughts of Rin. And once again, distracted by the strange hissing in the park.

But now that he _did_ think about it, it seemed to fall together so simply.

If he went with his prior assumption that it was due to past trauma, then who could possibly be the cause of that?

Someone who did the same things he did.

Or, someone who looked like him.

Obito sucked in a breath, the only other person who could _possibly_ genetically look like him…

His father.

It always came back to his father, didn't it?

Did he share his mannerisms too? Is that why she was sending her to this other school? It made Obito sick to his stomach to think that she might be _afraid_ of him. Enough that she was too frightened to even have him around anymore.

He exhaled in resignation, turning the doorknob and entering quietly.

His mother was in the action of wiping off the kitchen counter, she seemed to be in the middle of an anxiety-fueled cleaning session because when Obito stepped in she stopped and immediately turned to approach him.

"Tobi! I've been worried sick!" She said, her voice strained and distressed.

It took Obito by surprise, the worry in her voice was genuine. He felt a glimmer of hope that maybe she _wasn't_ terribly scared of him.

But then she pulled him into a hug, and Obito could feel the tense coils of her muscles as he limply returned the embrace. The hope faded.

"Sorry, mom. I just... lost track of time," He murmured quietly, looking past her shoulder and into the kitchen. There was a pot cooling on the stove.

"It's...It's okay, just please don't run out like that again. I don't know where you go," She murmured into his ear, before pulling her face back to look him in the eye, "Come on, sweetie. Dinner's ready." She cooed, ending the hug and placing soft hands on his shoulders. But her eyes flitted nervously from Obito to the door and she was holding his flesh much too tight to be normal.

He nodded blankly, "I'm going to the bathroom first."

Obito padded towards the restroom, which was a short nine paces from the kitchen. Once inside, he locked the door and inhaled deeply; the smell of cheap toiletries assaulting his nose almost immediately.

The bathroom was small, almost cramped- but it served its use. The tile walls were a warm yellow and the shower was of the same shade; only the cloudy white of the glass broke the blend of tuscany that seemed to surround the rest of the room.

He tilted to face the pale sink and turned on the faucet before holding his knuckles under the running water. The sudden pressure on the still-raw wound allowed for a small jolt of burning pain to shoot up his hand.

Once he deemed the injury properly sanitized, he took several small band-aids from the medicine cabinet and wrapped them around each of his knuckles. If his mother asked him about the injury, he'd come up with a white lie.

Obito looked up at his reflection in the small mirror across from him. His black head of hair was mussed from the outside wind and there was a small smudge of dirt on his cheek, put there when he wiped his face no doubt. But Obito couldn't help but marvel, not for the first time, how strikingly similar he looked to his past-self.

Nearly everything was the same, his bone structure, his hair, even his eye shape- however, the coloring of his irises were not as dark as he was used to. Instead, they seemed to have a shade of dark red in them; only visible when he put his face inches from the mirror.

How he managed to keep his former visage while still sharing the same genes as his mother he did not know.

He exited the restroom after he went about doing his business- he wasn't lying when he said he had to go to the bathroom after all- and joined his mother at the dinner table.

* * *

Obito twirled his spaghetti mutely in his fork, watching as the sauce-covered strands fell back into his bowl. His silence was not uncharacteristic- in fact, it could be considered comfortable by any third party watching the scene- but his mute eating was not born out of relative ease, instead, it was due to agitation at his mother's seemingly unperturbed nature.

He hadn't even realized he'd been glaring at his food until his mother spoke up from across the table.

"Tobi, I know you're upset," She started, and Obito looked up, staring into the ebony of her irises, "But please understand… this school will be good for you! You'll be fine there."

Obito shook his head, "I'm not upset about the new school."

"Then what's bothering you, dear?"

He just shook his head bitterly, "don't worry about it… just tell me about where I'll be going."

She was staring at him again, expression solemn. _Yes, that's what I saw in her eyes before, solemnity._

"Well, it's far away. All the way on the Long Island Sound, you'll be living there for a while."

Obito's eyes widened incredulously, and he managed to grit out a short, " _What?"_

"I'm sorry, it is very far away. But it's the best option for you, and I promise to visit, every weekend if you want." Her voice was dripping with sympathy, but for some reason, Obito couldn't find it in himself to believe her.

 _Be away from her, for who knows how long?_ He thought resentfully, his mother was the one good thing in being born into this new world. She was an anchor, was the universe planning on taking her away too?

"What else?"

"Well, we're going to have to leave almost immediately. Tomorrow morning, actually."

That was just about the third shock of the day, "Why so soon?"

Her fingers tapped restlessly on the pale carved wood of the table, "I want to get you enrolled as soon as possible, so you don't miss more school than necessary," She tittered, "So after dinner, I want you to pack any valuables you want to bring. I've already put clothing you'll need in your suitcase."

She was lying. She was _lying_ and Obito didn't know if he wanted to call her out on it or trust her with her secrets. And the fact that he was even debating that thought scared him.

Instead of doing either, he picked up his half-eaten bowl of spaghetti and walked it over to the sink, pouring the leftovers back into the pot and rinsing the glass. He left it in the sink and turned to walk out of his kitchen.

"I'll do that right now."

* * *

Obito's room wasn't anything special, its walls were a pale blue; the color of the sky after the clouds had parted at the passing of a particularly strong rainstorm. He had told his mother it was his favorite color when he was five, and the color stuck.

He found it strange. How a simple color had wormed its way into something worthy of an opinion. It didn't matter what shade of the rainbow he painted his room, yet he still gave a truthful answer and put in real insight. 'Because the color was calming', he thought at the time, but what use was calm in the situation he's in? Or the situations he was part of in lives past?

 _How queer to think that I can now say 'lives past,'_ He thought without any real mirth.

But would it really matter whether he painted the walls aegean or cerulean? The difference between the shades was but an infinitesimal notion amongst the many overwhelming wars constantly conflicting in his head. It was trivial, unimportant, out of mind. And yet he still found it deemable of any thought.

To be able to care for such a trifling thing, after everything he went through when he was _Obito,_ and now thrust into a world of being _Tobi._ He's been through hell and back. And here he sits, finding himself apprehensive and confused because he has to separate from his _mother._

"I'm not a _child,"_ He growled aloud. He was not a frightened kid confused about the world. He's lived his life before, he would be over forty if he had survived the Fourth War. He has his own insight and wisdom, his own experiences to reflect on.

He is not weak.

He sat on his bed with a newfound view, he did not need his mother to hold his hand. He was an adult, mentally. Emotionally. And he'd be damned if he reverted back to his careless genin self.

Except he already _was_ , he learned that in his continuous fights, and even today; when he trained in a rage and later let his anger slip onto his face at dinner.

Obito's fingers curled into a fist on his lap, he's always been more emotionally driven than most other Uchiha's, but he's learned to smother his sentimental urges after he made his allegiance to Madara. It seemed easy then, to be calculated and deliberate. But back in that past, he had a drive, a goal. At every stage in his life there was something to strive for; being Hokage was always the underlying objective. And there was also the aim to avenge Rin by putting an end to the painful world that killed her. And then later, switching his alliance and fighting against the man that betrayed him and ultimately preserving the world that put Rin to death.

What did he have now? No goals- the title of Hokage didn't exist here. He didn't need to fight tooth and nail for acknowledgment anymore. No one knew who _Rin Nohara_ was in this world either, as much as that pained him, and any avenging thoughts retaining to her had shriveled up and died after his death.

Because he thought that was it; death. And it should have been it. An end, death was the one solid thing in his life. Death is- was- final. But It seems that nothing in his life is a concrete reality at all anymore.

His head felt heavy. Like there was a building pressure growing behind his forehead. There was something burning in his chest, too. A sensation he unfortunately recognized as _hopelessness._

"There are those _damn emotions again,"_ He snarled at the air, glaring at the blue of his wall as if his sentiments would manifest into a living creature and he could destroy them with his nonexistent sharingan.

He needed a goal, something to put all of his time and energy towards. Like a twisted sort of hobby.

And it clicked. A similar thought to the one he had when he stood just outside his apartment door.

His father.

He could hunt down his father, demand to know what he did to his mother- if anything was done. And punish scum like him accordingly. Because, despite all of his best efforts, love was never an emotion he could successfully snuff.

Not with Rin, not with his mother.

Obito laid back onto his firm mattress of his bed, his closed suitcase still lay at the edge of his mattress. And it was the first night he fell asleep with newfound purpose.

The void filled, ever so slightly.

* * *

Kazuki Akane liked to think of herself as a loving, patient woman.

She cared deeply for Tobi, she was his mother after all, and the maternal instinct she had to nurture her child ran deep into her core. She felt her own anguish and panicked terror when he ran from the apartment, and the fear only mounted when he had not returned for two hours; enough so that she nearly broke down in tears. Because of the thought of calling him, putting him in danger, made her want to purge whatever divine blood he had for the sake of his safety.

She was beyond relieved that when she _did_ call him, Tobi cut their call short- there was less probability of the horrid creatures known as _monsters_ to come and try and feed off of her son. It was even worse that she could not see them, the anxiety that anyone around her could be one of those twisted Greek creatures had left her looking both ways before turning corners and sneaking glances behind her back.

Tobi was a smart kid with a tough exterior. He seemed much more hardened than any twelve-year-old she's encountered. She's thought this to be because of his demigod status, but she hasn't met another demigod to compare him to.

He could protect himself if the need arose, but even so, she promised herself to protect him always and keep him out of harm.

Which is why she felt the need to throw up at what she was doing now.

Kazuki was holding Tobi's leftovers, the small portion of spaghetti left in the steel pot on the counter. The stove-top burner was already lit, blue flames licking the metal casing atop of it hungrily, waiting to consume.

She took a deep breath, _He_ had told her to do this, and if she broke her word she knew _He_ would not be merciful.

So she swallowed the lump in her throat, pushed down the hard rock in her gut, and stifled the voices in her head screaming at her to wake up Tobi and flee.

She tipped the spaghetti onto the stove and watched the flames engulf it. The food had not disappeared, as she inevitably hoped it would. She sighed aloud and set down the now-empty pot, before grabbing a thin, small knife and pressing it to her finger lightly.

A bead of blood formed at the tip of her thumb and she held it over the fire, watching as the drop of red fell straight into waiting flames.

When it hit, the food dissipated, but the sick feeling she had did not.

There was a sizzling noise that seemed to surround the kitchen, energy began to build within the room and sparked and crackled, before turning into something much darker, more sinister, more hostile. She suddenly felt angry, she couldn't believe she was doing this, allowing the very man that would ruin Tobi's life into her home. With Tobi just a room away.

But just as the vitality began to grow, it stopped. No longer inflating around her, but still smothering her all the same.

It seemed she would never get used to the feeling of his presence, especially since it seemed that every time they met his aura grew more and more baleful.

"Kazuki."

 _Ah,_ and there he was, speaking her name in that low rumble of his. One she used to compare to the purr of a cat. But now, it sounded much more like the growl of a wolf.

Gods, she couldn't believe she used to be attracted to him.

Kazuki turned to face the new entity in the room, he looked exactly the same as he had when she saw him last, nearly thirteen years ago. He resembled someone who would be a part of a biker gang, with his dark round sunglasses and leather jacket, but she knew better. _Didn't she know better._

"Lord," She responded, not unkindly, and bowed low to the floor.

"My, my, Kazuki. No need for so much respect- it's not like we're strangers! Get off of the floor there," He laughed low in his chest, and when Kazuki rose, she couldn't help but compare the smirk on his face to that of a fox.

"Lord, I will be taking Tobi to the camp you told me about tomorrow."

His grin fell slowly, and his jaw suddenly looked tight. "Camp Half-Blood. I see, is he really already of age?" He didn't wait for her to respond, not that she would have anyway; he didn't care. "Good, good. He'll need to be there for the plan to be in action." He mumbled to himself.

"Lord? How will I bring him to the camp?" She asked anxiously- half expecting to be slapped for disrespect, or worse.

His taunting smile rose once again, "Oh, you can figure that out yourself, Kazuki," he waved his hand dismissively, "you're a smart woman. After all, you were the one that came up with the idea to raise him in this smog covered city to hide his scent. I already told you where the camp is located."

That didn't really help her, she couldn't see the mist-covered camp, but she didn't comment on his answer.

"You're not going to screw this up, now, are you?" He said, tone dipping from its low baritone into something far more menacing, "I can smell your doubt."

She looked at the floor guiltily and opened her mouth to lie and say that, no, she was not doubtful, but before she could, the man had one large hand wrapped around her throat.

She was once again reminded of the prowess of the Gods, he had moved across the room to her in the blink of an eye- and she found herself remembering a similar moment to this one from long ago, she was once again at his mercy.

"I've already told you how important this kid is," he growled into her ear lowly, his voice barely a whisper, "You're not stupid enough to go against my wishes, are you? You're a smart girl, right?" His hand added more pressure to her neck, just enough to bruise. She froze, fear paralyzing her. The only movement she made was to blink as tears slowly rolled down her face.

"N-no, I won't go against y-you, Lord," she said, trying to heave in air despite the hand on her windpipe.

He released her and pulled back to look her in the eyes. His sunglasses were in his hand, revealing, not normal irises, but angry, red flames dancing in the black of eye sockets.

"That's good, but just to be sure, once you bring the kid to Camp Half-Blood you're going to ditch him. Drive away once he gets out, do you understand?"

She swallowed, and the tears still flowed, no longer just from the pain of near suffocation.

"Yes, Lord Ares."

* * *

Great googly moogly! This chapter was hard to write, probably because I had nearly no plan and was just kinda going with the flow- the only planned part of this was the training scene, Obito's mom telling him about leaving for the camp, and the interaction with Ares and Kazuki. The rest of this was in the moment lol. So I'm sorry if it seems kind of boring and soggy in the middle.

I deeply apologize for the month wait- consider this a Christmas Present, I guess, but I don't have much time to write due to school and the fact that I'm doing two sports. Yeehaw. I'll probably write over Winter Break so maybe the chapter will be out soon?

Anyway, CHB is coming soon! If I stick to my plan, next chapter, and there will also be some action next chapter too!

Please review with constructive criticism on my writing; I've said before I'm always looking to improve and I am! And if you don't want to give CC, just leave your thoughts/predictions! I always love hearing them.

A lot of you guessed Obito's godly parent being Ares, I got a lot of people saying Hades, too. Which did cross my mind due to the reincarnation; but I didn't want another Kid of the Big Three trope. And also it's ironic that his dad is the god of war lol. This fic was originally going to be a humor one-shot of Obito being continuously sassy and uncaring and then going "of course my dads the fcking god of war. How ironic" And tbh I'm probably going to keep a scene like that, but this fic is DEFINITELY not humor anymore. It's so angsty lol.

Sorry, this AN is so damn long I enjoy oversharing oops. But uh Obito's mom is Japanese-American which explains the Japanese name. And very unrelated but does anyone get the title's reference to Stephen King's book, Pet Semetary? Bc that where it's from lol. Highly recommend that book.

Fav, follow, review, bye!


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